Poetry

LVI – Third Reading

my god, when did I get so cagey about flesh
& for that matter when did flesh
get so cagey about you; I can’t even
see you anymore for all this meat

but this image, I just can’t shake it,
your three-in-the-morning crawling into bed,
shucked of your skin, and for a while
we roll around without our rinds on.

& if & if we should grow
like seeds, sap pulsing in clouds,
still I’d know your still-small self.

are you there, god, I’m looking
for you in them, and if it’snot you
I don’t want to know

Alex Marsh